Orochimaru could never forget that day six years ago.
It was the 48th year of the Ninja World Calendar. The Third Shinobi World War had finally come to an end.
Konoha, surrounded on all sides, had paid a heavy price but ultimately secured victory.
Yet...
"What meaning does any of it have?"
Orochimaru's thin lips moved silently as he gazed forward with calm eyes.
Lead-gray clouds blanketed the entire sky. The already somber cemetery felt even more desolate and mournful. Mourners bowed their heads and wept like reeds bent under rain, a sea of black umbrellas resembling a flock of crows.
He stood among the crowd in black, looking toward the elderly man at the very front.
That was his beloved teacher—the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen.
Hiruzen brushed the rain from the tombstone with his hand. The gesture seemed to stir the crowd, and a wave of grief spread through them.
"..."
Orochimaru's gaze shifted to the watermelon-headed boy off to the side.
He knew the child. He had often seen him and his genin father running around Konoha on their hands. The pair had always been obnoxiously optimistic and energetic, completely ignoring the annoyed or mocking looks from others.
But now...
It was the first time Orochimaru had seen the boy cry. He cried in a particularly foolish way, snot and tears mixing into a muddy mess on his face.
He had heard that during a mission, the boy had encountered the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. His so-called "failure" of a genin father had rushed in to cover his son's escape. In the end, the man single-handedly killed four of them, forcing the remaining three to flee while heavily injured.
The father had died in the process.
And then there was the other child...
Orochimaru's narrow eyes shifted sideways. In his pupils reflected a young face, standing without an umbrella as rain soaked him completely.
His crying was weak and hoarse. Head lowered, his shoulders shook with soft, intermittent sobs, like fabric being torn in fits and starts. Yet the tears flowed steadily in several streams, mixing with the rain as they poured from his eyes.
Hyūga Kumokawa. Timid and cowardly by nature, physically frail. While others his age had already begun learning Gentle Fist, this boy hadn't even awakened his Byakugan. He was famously known within the Hyūga clan as a "failure."
His father hadn't actually died on the battlefield. He had returned severely wounded and later succumbed to his injuries. However, rumors within the Hyūga clan claimed he had been killed because he failed to protect a main family member properly—the Caged Bird seal had been activated while he was already badly hurt.
Interestingly, the boy's father had once accomplished something under Orochimaru's command during the Second Shinobi World War.
How old were these two children?
Nine? Ten?
Heh.
So young, thrown onto the battlefield. So young, losing their only remaining family...
Orochimaru looked again at the elderly man leading the ceremony. Lightning flashed in the dark clouds like branches, turning the world momentarily into stark black and white. The brilliant flash cast the hunched shadow long across the ground like a demon. Sarutobi Hiruzen's compassionate face was split into light and shadow.
Having lived through two Shinobi World Wars, Orochimaru suddenly felt a profound disgust—so strong it nearly made him sick.
What meaning did the lives of those who died in war truly hold?
Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
As the crowd gradually dispersed and the cemetery grew quiet once more, only rows of silent tombstones remained.
Orochimaru stood before Nawaki's grave. A black umbrella sheltered him like ink in the rain. He placed the white chrysanthemum in his hand on the tombstone and stared at the familiar name carved there. Strangely, he felt nothing.
Sadness? Anger? Pity?
None of it.
Yet he was not at peace.
He simply watched the rain drip from the edge of his umbrella, disappearing into the grooves of the inscription, and felt a deep fear rising from within.
"U-um..."
A timid voice came from behind him, as if forced out of a tight throat.
Orochimaru snapped back to the present and turned toward the sound, only to meet a pair of white eyes.
His cold expression seemed to startle the other, who trembled and took a step back before steadying himself.
"U-um... your face doesn't look good, so..."
Under Orochimaru's gaze, the voice grew smaller and smaller.
Orochimaru looked down at the boy named Hyūga Kumokawa. He realized he had been standing at the grave for too long. The child was probably worried about his physical and emotional state.
Kind, yet weak.
Truly a failure.
Orochimaru made his judgment internally and had no intention of saying more. With a cold expression, he began to walk away...
"Lord Orochimaru."
The voice from behind stopped him in his tracks, almost against his will.
"Do you know... what the meaning of life is?"
Orochimaru narrowed his eyes slightly and turned around. The boy still looked timid, but he lifted his head with a lost expression. "My father often spoke of you before he died. He said you were a hero of Konoha. I thought... someone like you must know many things..."
"It has no meaning."
Orochimaru interrupted softly before the boy could finish. "If it exists at all, it only exists while one is alive."
"Once life ends, it holds no meaning whatsoever."
Death was the fairest form of equality in this world.
No matter what you had done or possessed in life, death stripped everything away.
The thought sent a bone-chilling cold through Orochimaru. Even the icy wind slipping into his collar felt sharper. His fingers tightened on the umbrella handle until they turned white.
Yes. When you died, it was like water vanishing into water.
Death meant losing [everything]. He did not want to lose [everything]. He wanted to possess [everything].
Therefore, he refused to die. He could not die!
"Lord Orochimaru." Hyūga Kumokawa suddenly raised his head. "Do you believe that gods exist in this world?"
Orochimaru refocused and looked at the timid boy in front of him. The question almost made him laugh.
It reminded him of how he looked down on Jiraiya, who was always going on about the Child of Prophecy who would change the ninja world.
In his eyes, both so-called Children of Prophecy and so-called gods were nothing but ridiculous fabrications created by the powerless to deceive themselves.
An omniscient and omnipotent god did not exist. Even if one did, it would simply be a more powerful being.
"What if... what if that god possessed eternal life?"
Noticing the mockery in Orochimaru's eyes, Kumokawa hurriedly continued, "Before my father died, he gave me a scroll and a body... a corpse. He said the scroll recorded the hidden secrets of the Hyūga clan, but I could never open it. And that body belongs to an ancestor of the Hyūga. He isn't dead and cannot die—he simply left his body behind..."
Though Kumokawa's voice grew quieter, as if he himself barely believed what he was saying, Orochimaru's narrow pupils trembled.
In the entire ninja world, no one understood the concept of the "soul" better than Orochimaru.
To most people, the soul was an abstract, elusive thing. No one could separate a soul from a body.
But to someone like him, who obsessively studied the essence of life, it was entirely possible. And the Hyūga were one of the oldest ninja clans...
"..."
Orochimaru studied the boy, who was now breaking out in a cold sweat. For some reason, he felt inclined to believe what the child had said.
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a look?
Hyūga Kumokawa, who had lowered his head, suddenly felt a shadow fall over him. The cold rain stopped falling on him.
"Tell me—why are you sharing this with me?"
Kumokawa looked up in a daze and met a pair of narrow, snake-like eyes.
Orochimaru stood before him holding the umbrella. He bent down slightly, one hand on his knee, bringing himself to eye level with the boy.
"This should be a secret of the Hyūga clan, right? Why not tell the clan elders?" A faint smile appeared on that pale face, giving him an oddly captivating charm.
"My father told me that if he died, I could use the scroll and the body to negotiate better treatment from the clan."
Perhaps because Orochimaru's tone had softened, a bit of color returned to the boy's young face. He lowered his head and said, "But I don't trust them. They're the ones who drove my father to his death."
There was clear resentment in his slightly trembling voice. Orochimaru glanced at the boy's tightly clenched fists, surprised that the child still had some spirit left.
"You want me to help you get revenge?" Orochimaru narrowed his eyes and asked with a smile. "Aren't you afraid I'll tell the Hyūga clan about this?"
"I don't think someone like you would do that. And even if you did..." Kumokawa slowly shook his head and looked up at Orochimaru. "I wouldn't lose much."
"Only myself."
"..."
Facing those resolute white eyes, Orochimaru fell silent for a moment.
Then he suddenly smiled and placed a hand on Kumokawa's head.
Indeed, life didn't always have meaning. But only by staying alive could one encounter interesting people and things.
Later, Hyūga Kumokawa handed over the scroll and the body to Orochimaru.
Orochimaru had managed to break part of the sealing techniques on the scroll. From the first few pages, he learned about the existence of the Ōtsutsuki clan at the dawn of the ninja world.
They were "beings from the heavens" who had come from another planet. Every member was born with immense power. They didn't need to train like humans in the ninja world. Using something called a "Kāma," they could reincarnate and resurrect—truly beings that transcended death.
They explored the universe in pairs, but their sole purpose was to plant what was known as the "God Tree" and devour all life on the planet.
The "main family" members would return to their home planet, while "branch family" members stayed behind to monitor the world and ensure the "fruit" of the God Tree matured properly.
The soulless body, according to the scroll, belonged to a member of the Ōtsutsuki branch family.
This individual had passed down chakra to the ninja world and left behind descendants—the current Hyūga clan.
Because the later portions of the scroll remained sealed, Orochimaru still didn't know why that Ōtsutsuki had abandoned his body. Even so, the information was enough to make him tremble with excitement.
Such intricate meridians. Such a perfect body. Compared to humans of the ninja world, they were practically a different species!
Eternal life truly existed. All physical forms would eventually perish, but the "soul" could endure forever!
As long as he could unravel the secrets of the Ōtsutsuki clan, one day he would understand all the truths of this world!
Six full years had passed since Orochimaru received that scroll and body.
In those six years, he believed he had complete control over Hyūga Kumokawa. The boy's eyes toward him held only admiration and dependence.
No matter what experiment he proposed, the boy cooperated obediently.
He had even sent the child to approach the Third Hokage and deliver messages to Shimura Danzō's Root organization. Despite his fear, Kumokawa never refused.
Moreover, Orochimaru discovered that although the boy lacked ninja talent, he possessed a special curiosity and intuition when it came to scientific research. He often provided unexpected inspiration from seemingly insignificant details.
It was extremely rare.
Even Tsunade, known as a "medical saint," only treated medical ninjutsu as a means to save lives. She had no interest in exploring the true secrets and essence of life.
Because of this, Orochimaru had felt a slight sense of camaraderie. He had even been somewhat reluctant to erase the boy's soul.
But in the end, his greed for truth and immortality had overpowered that small trace of recognition.
Until now.
Watching the boy suddenly attack, seeing the headless corpse beside him, Orochimaru felt a sense of absurdity.
As if everything that had happened over the past six years had been nothing more than an unreal dream.
"You..."
The intense emotional shock made the usually composed Orochimaru ask a foolish question.
"What are you doing?"
Fortunately, Hyūga Kumokawa seemed to understand what he truly wanted to ask. He simply smiled and said, "Thank you, Lord Orochimaru."
"Just as you once told me: true ignorance is not the lack of knowledge, but the refusal to seek it."
"I would also like to tell you this: weakness and ignorance are not barriers to survival."
"Arrogance is."
Yes. Because of his arrogance, Orochimaru had never taken a "failure"—a mere teenager—seriously.
Because of his arrogance, he had focused entirely on the Ōtsutsuki "remnant body" while overlooking all the anomalies right in front of him.
After all, what could a timid ten-year-old boy possibly do?
What could a failure who couldn't even awaken his Byakugan accomplish?
Hyūga Kumokawa had been like an isolated island closed to outsiders. Orochimaru had only seen the normal-looking forest on the outside, never noticing the bottomless, still swamp hidden within.
Only when everything spiraled out of his control did Orochimaru finally awaken as if from a dream.
From beginning to end, it had never been him who chose Hyūga Kumokawa.
It was Hyūga Kumokawa who had chosen him.
He... had been played by a mere child?
Realizing this, Orochimaru's anger flipped into laughter. A ferocious grin spread across his pale face.
"Do you really think you can escape from me?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Orochimaru vanished from where he stood.
A bone-chilling, murderous intent erupted instantly!
It was like a frozen river cracking apart. The floodwaters that had accumulated beneath the thick ice roared with earth-shaking force, surging straight toward Hyūga Kumokawa.
A sharp screech tore through the air—the sonic boom of a kunai moving at extreme speed.
Too fast.
The kunai had lost its shape from the sheer velocity, impossible to see clearly.
As expected, even with his chakra nearly depleted, Orochimaru was still not an opponent the current Kumokawa could face.
The Ōtsutsuki body manifested through thousands of "Reality Points" was, after all, incomplete. It granted him immense talent, but not yet the corresponding strength.
With that thought in mind, Kumokawa's blue-white pupils reflected the cold glint of the incoming kunai, yet remained completely calm.
Then, to Orochimaru's stunned gaze, instead of dodging, the boy stepped forward to meet the blade.
Schlick!
Thick, dark red blood sprayed out instantly, splattering loudly onto the floor.
The kunai had sliced through half of Kumokawa's neck—from the vocal cords and larynx all the way to the cervical bone. Within seconds, blood would flood his lungs with every breath. For an ordinary person, it would have been fatal.
"Just as I thought."
The smile on Hyūga Kumokawa's face never wavered. He stared at Orochimaru's moving lips and mouthed silently: "Even now, you still couldn't bring yourself to stab the heart?"
In that case, I win.
BOOM!
A deafening crash echoed through the lab. Orochimaru instinctively looked behind him and saw an enraged elderly face.
"Orochimaru! What the hell are you doing?!"
An furious roar rang out. Hyūga Kumokawa slowly closed his eyes and collapsed onto the operating table. One final thought crossed his mind.
Heh. A worthless branch member burdened with the Caged Bird seal.
Fate really had given me the worst possible "script."
But that's okay.
I was born to be the greatest "actor."
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